


Shigir and the Trooping

by Nico_Weetch



Series: The Collected Tellings of Shigir and Other Changeling Folktales [5]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Changeling Folklore, Changeling Lore, Changelings, Gen, Pre-Series, Shigir, Shigir Ideale the Changeling Folk Hero, Songs, original lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nico_Weetch/pseuds/Nico_Weetch
Summary: The art of storytelling is very near and dear to changelings, as are stories surrounding their trickster folk hero Lord Shigir Ideale.In which sometimes a story, is more than a story.Set in a time way before the battle of Killahead.





	Shigir and the Trooping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ler/gifts).



> To Ler, who is as persevering as they are inspiring.

The sky was golden. A pure gold, a twilight gold, a royal gold. It was mesmerizing to look up at it.

So much so that the young lanky changeling didn’t even notice someone pressing bells and ribbons into his palm. When he did, he turned them in his hands curiously. From there, he looked around at the crowd.

Never had the young changeling seen so many half-breeds gathered together out in the open. It was exciting, though there was an overhanging sense of danger to it. Luckily for the sunlight, no Gumm-Gumm could come by them and do much without turning to stone.

The young changeling smiled at the thought, but didn’t want to think too long about it. Not with so many things to marvel at in the crowd.

Half-breeds continued to gather. Some showed the works of their hidden labors, presenting masks made from birch bark and oak that looked put together in two day’s time.

Other’s passed colorful ribbons that they had been collecting over the year, like a holding magpie.

The young changeling observed how the ribbons were being tied to wrists, ,and ankles, even forearms, and fumbled to do the same.

“You want my mask?” asked the polymorph shimmying it off, “I can’t see too well through it.”

The lanky changeling huffed away from his fumbling to look at the polymorph, his right eye still swollen and healing from a previous mission. Bits of red still prickled the polymorph’s eyebrow.

“Of course you can’t with your eye still like that, ya turnip.” snarked the young changeling.

The polymorph kicked him slightly, and the lanky one jumped like a cricket out of the way. The two smirked at each other and laughed.

“I do think you might have made it worse, jokes aside.”

“Yeah…I was fearing that.”

They exchanged ribbons for the mask. Though after the lanky one was done helping the polymorph tie ribbons on, there were enough ribbons for the lanky one’s forearms and wrists. He promptly gave a goofy smirk and flapped his arms in a chicken like way.

“Quick, who do I remind you of? What do I look like?” he asked pulling the mask to rest on his forehead so the polymorph could see the face he was making too.

“Soon to be dead if General Vale sees you.” snarked the polymorph.

The young changelings’s laughter joined the rest of the excited hum-drum and laughter of a pre-event excitement.

It was the young changeling’s first Blood Moon Eclipse, (otherwise known as The Great Shadow Moon Ball, or the Pale Lady’s Trooping), and the young ones were trying to piece together as much information as possible from observing.

The polymorph admired how a changeling turned old worn out water-skins into a makeshift drums and tambourines (using acorns and chicken bones as tiny cymbals). The young one started to wander over to observe closer.

This was how the polymorph ended up bumping into Kio, and a masked changeling with a long curled staff. The staff looked like a quick attempt to make a shepherd’s crook. From the end dangled an unlit lantern.

“Oh! hullo, Kio.” joined the lanky changeling while the polymorph took in what he was seeing with his good eye. The lanky one stabilized him.

“Sorry Kio, I ah, didn’t see you.”

Kio re-adjusted the crown of witch-hazel flowers around her head, and smiled sympathetically. A rare look on such a usually strict half-breed. The masked changeling beside her chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

The changeling who was putting together drums and tambourines passed them, and handed the polymorph a tambourine. They offered a percussion to the other half-breeds, Kio gracefully took a drum, the masked changeling and the lanky young one declined politely.

The polymorph stared into the tambourine, suddenly filled with an urge to paint it. When a realization struck him.

“Won’t this bring attention to ourselves?” the polymorph asked.

“Because everything else _won’t_?” snarked the lanky changeling, resting his elbow on the polymorph’s shoulder. A silent tease of their height difference.

The polymorph whapped him with his tambourine, and continued with his questions. “Where are we going? What’s all this for?”

Kio snickered at the worried look on the polymorph. Something about the concern of his expression and his recovering eye tugged at Kio, and she ruffled his hair some.

“Tonight under the Shadowed Moon the trolls and Gumm-Gumms will stay inside or underground, away from the night sky. After all, the moon will be at it’s fullest in years! An auspicious time for the night! A time when what would be the brightest of nights, turns into its most shadowed. For some of the Gumm-Gumms it celebrates the sun’s reflection leaving the moon, for others the hopeful time to gather, meet with those still living - and a celebration to stay away from the grasp of shadows; lighting their dens and homes with light. A night where everyone stays inside. Everyone,” Kio turned, her eyes illuminating, red irises sparking like bonfires, “Everyone, except _us_.”

Kio’s illuminating grin spread infectiously to the young changelings, who’s eyes also started to glow. 

“And, you’re _sure_ they won’t bother us?” asked the polymorph.

“They’ll be far too preoccupied in their own celebrating to want anything to do with us.” Kio laughed, though as gentle as the sound was, it wasn’t without its venom.

“Why? It’s just an eclipse.” shrugged the lanky changeling.

“Is it though? Is it ever _just_ an eclipse?” leaned forward the masked changeling resting their weight on the make-shift crook, the empty lantern swinging on the end. “Don’t you feel the pull in your bones? Like the receding wave in a tide, and the anticipation for its _return_? The extra spark in your words? The tingle in your fingertips to grasp at the wind as if it were gossamer lace? The excitement building as if little birds are trapped in your chest? Hopping from one rib to the other like birch branches while singing? The want to jump out of skin and rock and dance bare before the sky?”

Without realizing, while the lanky changeling listened to the masked half-breed, his jaw slowly dropped open as he nodded. Their words reminded the young changeling of his human host family, and what he felt when partaking in their traditions. A twang of nostalgia gripped the lanky young changeling’s heart. For a moment he longed to see that family again.

To help with the harvest, and go down to the seaside market, and listen to old stories, and witness the dancing about the square, and the idle conversation of the family.

It was an impossible longing.

Homesickness prickled the young changelings eyes. “Oh yeah? And who are _you_ supposed to be?” he asked defensively.

The masked changeling chortled and gave an exaggerate bow, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m Shigir in a horridly clever disguise!” the half-breed’s eyes glowed through the mask’s eye holes.

The lanky changeling snorted at such a ridiculous response.

From behind the mask, the changeling smiled as well. “Go do some mischief little brother.” and the changeling pulled down the lanky changeling’s mask over their face. The both of them now masked.

“Pfff” went the lanky one, adjusting the mask so it’d fit better. Eyes also glowing through the eye holes.

“And don’t think too hard about the Gumm-Gumm’s. Tonight isn’t about them.” said Kio from the masked changeling’s arm.

They looked at one another and smiled, and continued on their way singing together;

“Hum-Tum! The Trickster sung!  
Stole a fiddle and away they run!  
Over the hills and through the mud!  
Hum-Tum! The Trickster sung!”

In their singing, the masked one sounded _suspiciously_ like Moït.

The young changelings smiled brightly at one another and went to see what mischief they could do.

They tried to tie the ribbons together of a distracted talking changeling. That way when the tricked changeling went to gesticulate something with their arms, they found themselves tied together by the elbows. They snickered at this from behind a barrel.

They swapped someone’s sweet buns with actual rocks. Though without the young changelings knowing, a friend of the soon to be tricked half-breed pointed this out. In good sporting fashion the changeling acted as though he was tricked, going into dramatics over how much his teeth hurt.

Their friend pressed raspberries into their palm with a wink, and the changeling howled, “Oh! I’m bleeding! Oh what a cruel trick! Oh!! The _Pain_!”

The young changelings felt bad about this, after all a serious tooth ache was no laughing matter. So when the two young changelings peered over their hiding spot and saw bits of red falling between the supposedly tricked changeling’s fingers. They gasped.

The changeling smirked, feigned to wobble over, and squirted raspberry juice on them.

The lanky one and the polymorph hugged each other in fear at the shock, and the changeling laughed and laughed. “Oooohhooohoho Shigir’s horns that was good!”

The lanky one, while trying to catch his breath, started to snicker as well.

The polymorph thumbed some of the raspberry onto his thumb. He sniffed it before tasting it. After a few loud smacking sounds with his mouth he said, “That’s some sweet blood you have there, sister.”

“Indeed!” the changeling chuckled, “Now run off before I punt the both of you scamps into the sun.”

Next they tried to swipe Crumb’s pipe from his mouth as he slept in a chair. The pipe was to be swapped with a twig.

This wasn’t as successful, as Crumb awoke just when the polymorph was placing the twig in his mouth.

“Wh-!! what is-??” Crumb snorted, pulling on the twig, as if it were his pipe by instinct, “Why you little _shites_!” Crumb bellowed over their squealing. Crumb caught the polymorph into a head lock around his arm, and had enough strength in his human form to pick the lanky changeling clear off his feet.

Crumb turned the lanky one around, and saw his pipe sticking out from the mask’s mouth hole. The young changeling shrugged in a ‘oops’ gesture of innocence, which no one bought.

What the youths thought would be a barked reprimand turned into barked laughter, dropping them both. “Good one!” said Crumb, swiping the pipe from the lanky changeling, and waving it in his face “But not good enough.”

The polymorph scratched the back of his head, sharing a look with his friend, and the two joined Crumb’s laughter.

The sun was a little lower on the horizon, and the sky was still blazing it’s royal golden hues. Distantly a horn was sounded, followed by the rattling of tambourines. The lanky one nudged the polymorph to rattle his tambourine too. Happily he did so.

“It must be starting.” noted Crumb as he nocked his pipe empty against his chair. Idly the changeling looked around for his lantern.

“Are you looking for this?” went the polymorph picking it up.

“Aye, good.” went Crumb scratching his lower back. He gave a long stretch and motioned for it to be placed on the chair as he filled his pipe with herbs. With a long drag and a few puffs Crumb attached the lantern to the hook end of a broom. “Come along now. Hop to, you two.” Crumb stretched again and shook his leg a bit, “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

The three of them rejoined the gathered changelings to the rattling of tambourines and bells.

At the peak of ringing those with drums gave decisive hits.

Once!

Twice!

Thrice!

And on the fourth everyone shouted, “ _OOOoohhllllaaaaaa Eeeeeyyllllaaaaaa hhhhHHHAIIIYPE!!!_ ” all their voices carried through the camp and over the hills and fields.

Thus the changeling procession began under the twilight sky. The changelings circled the camp and made their way into the woods. The air filling with laughter bells and songs.

To the Gumm-Gumms that peered through their tent flaps, it looked like a haunting display. How had they never noticed how many changelings were in their camp? But this was no matter, at least not for tonight. Some Gumm-Gumms shivered, grateful the changelings were leaving for the night, feeling less at risk of having their throats slit in the night between the drunken stupors of the holiday eclipse.

Distantly more instruments were starting to play, or rather quickly put together things that could make sound. Like empty jugs to blow into and finely taught lyres to strum, some carried sticks to beat against solid objects as they walked, turning anything into a potential drum.

Glug and mead was passed through the parade. No one tried to stop the young ones in partaking in the drinks. After all, if they were old enough to fight and die, they were old enough to drink. Not that this stopped the older changelings from giving a hearty laugh and patting their backs when the younger changelings made faces and had trouble swallowing.

“Aren’t we heading towards the enemy troll camp?” asked the polymorph to Crumb.

He nodded absently and rubbed his nose, “Suppose we are. Oh but they won’t bother us. We’ll be on the sunny side of the hill. Besides we’re just going close enough to give a scare, nothing more.” he grinned.

“Scare…how?” asked the lanky one.

Crumb tapped his nose, and knowingly pulled on his pipe.

The answer came in due course.

From the troll camp those in the shadows could look up into the sun soaked hills and see glints of torch-lights and glowing eyes. Some half-breeds even used reflective crystals to help enhance the effect. The wind carried laughter and bells. Distantly multi-colored strings flowed with the beat of drums the tune of pipers bells and…a song;

“ Fie! For one! Fie! For two!  
Light your bones, free your sticks  
We fear no sun, we fear no shadow  
For them and then are One!  
One day soon (perchance at noon)  
You’ll hear us coming too  
Fear the bells! Fie! Toll the bells!  
We come for you -  
Sleep well! ”

Everyone rang as many bells as they could, and the song would repeat as they danced on with the procession.

With the sun setting on the horizon, the changelings would hop in and out of the shadows while changing forms. This added a wave of electric color to the changeling troop. Those with lanterns and torches would set them alight, their eyes glowing along in the Pale Lady’s procession of the night.

With the setting of the sun, the largest moon any of the young changelings had yet to witness started to take its place.

Several audibly gasped at the sight.

It looked like a giant watching iris, tinted orange, and wider than a hillside.

A side stepping dance would begin. Where two lines would form. The aim would be to still keep the processional line going forward, while skipping from one side of the path to the other. Sometimes the skip would be a hop, or a flip. Some kicked their legs high in front of them looking like roosters trying to take flight. And when the two lines, in their jumping arch, would pass the other in the middle, the changelings would hit their sticks or brooms or make shift crooks with the other’s.

Whooping calls filled the air, and the changelings upon landing on the other side of the path, still sidestepping to keep the procession going, would rhythmically tap their sticks or brooms or make shift crooks, against trees and rocks and the earth, or even their own horns.

Those who didn’t dance snapped their fingers and claws in time. While others beat their drums and tambourines.

“There’s a fine fine line my darling  
Way-o Way-o Way-la!  
Pick up your head from gardening  
Way-o Way-o Way-la!  
Can’t you see the line is breathing?  
Way-o Way-o Way-la!  
From the line there’s no divide  
Way-o Way-o Way-la!  
We can hook both sides with one line  
Way-o Way-o Way-la!

O’er the line and through the line  
(We make this one line whole!)  
We’re fractured but clever  
(We make this one line whole!)  
The divide is us an’ we’re breathing  
Way-o Way-o Way-la!  
We were pulled from the line and fissures   
So break up the Fault, bring silver!”

Hours melted into moments, and many more songs filled the lungs of many changelings. Those who didn’t know a song would catch on pretty quickly, or stick to chorus moments. Though, nothing was perfect, and if a changeling misstepped it only brought a bout of encouraging whoops! and cheers, and slaps on the back. So the changeling kept going.

As did the trooping changelings.

The procession carried on well into the night and through the hills. Not minding who could spot the twinkling of flashing changing colors from changelings shifting between forms, or the bouncing glow of their eyes, or the bobbing of their torches and lanterns.

Perhaps humans who spotted such a spectacle incorporated such sightings into the their own stories. Who’s to say.

Finally, the procession started to slow down and reach a stop.

Before them was the cliffside, and a giant pyre waiting to be lit. Yet no one brought a torch near the wood. Instead the procession started to spread out and circle around the stacks of wood.

The moon was higher up in the sky, and despite looking slightly smaller than before, was still imposing over the clear starry sky amidst the blanket of the milky way. Its reflection staring back up at itself from the large lake beyond the cliffside.

The changelings all stared.

Finally a half-breed stepped out from the crowd. The line they walked to the center, wasn’t exactly straight. The two young changelings recognized them as the masked changeling from earlier who was with Kio. The lantern that hung from his make-shift crook glowed, and smelled of dried rosemary. Around the crook was tied together knots of witch-hazel and pine.

“Moït! Moït! Moït!” some started to call and whoop.

It made sense that the camp’s leading changeling would give the evening’s story on such an auspicious night.

Still the changeling didn’t lift up his mask, but from the tone of his voice it was clear Moït was smiling behind his mask. “Alright, alright, settle down you ingrates. You’ll make the lantern go out!” the crowd chortled, and stilled.

“It’s been a long march friends, and still we marched on. Despite our work for the Gumm-Gumms we can’t risk forgetting who we’re really working for.

“We all know the phrase, to serve the Gumm-Gumms is to serve the Pale Lady.

“In doing so, we mustn’t forget Her.

“It is said She’s trapped. Waiting, and biding her time. Though we still feel Her in the shadows, and in the transitions of night and day.

“To be clear, I’m not here to make you feel guilty. We get enough guilt for several lifetimes.”

A few changelings laughed at that.

“For even Shigir the First almost forgot Her, and that is why we’re here on this shadow’d night.” The masked Moït sounding changeling lifted their arms and crook skyward. The moon itself started to turn a rusty red like color above them.

“The story I tell tonight is a story that was told to me. And was told before me, passed down. As is the way. Some! Might even say it was passed down straight from the Shadowed Moon.” The masked Moït leaned against his crook casually, “But enough about that…” the lantern on the crook’s end swayed and casted shadows on the mask. 

“Let us begin;

“We find our hero doing his favorite pastime. Lazing about the hillside, basking in the sun with a wheat stalk bobbing on his lip.

“He had just finished a mission for the Great General, and wished for repose.

“Joining him on the hillside was Ohou. Who stretched in the grass and tried to make music with some of the grass blades.

“ ‘Do you have any lyrics for such a sweet tune, O Ohou?’ asked Shigir, rolling closer to Ohou.

“ ‘None for now. Though I’m sure such a clever tongue such as yours can inspire a word or two.’ replied Ohou.

“ ‘Shall we find out?’

“ ‘Lets!’ proclaimed Ohou.

“And the two thew their arms around the other, and inspired many words and tunes _most_ patiently.”

The crowed whistled and nudged one another at this. Some felt inspired to nip at their partners.

The masked Moït continued, nodding and leaning forward, “ _Indeed_!

“Though their marry making was interrupted by that Great Interrupter of Many a Living thing.

“Shigir and Ohou heard their presence before they saw it. As many a bell tolled and chimed with the arrival of Death, and one of his many children, the Vulpcròstag.”

The gathered changelings shimmied their tambourines and shook the bells they had.

“Figures it’d be Death.” snarked a changeling in the crowd.

“Is precisely what our Steady Ohou of Magma said!” said the masked changeling, balancing themselves on one leg as he spoke, leaning all the more on his make-shift crook.

“Our hero took a defensive stance, protective of Ohou. His mind quick at work fearing he’d have to think of a trick to show Death worthy of himself _and_ Ohou.

“Shigir rolled to his feet and bowed graciously at Death and the Vulpcròstag. Ohou followed Shigir’s lead.

“ ‘Greetings O Death! And many felicitations to you and your children! Tell me, are we still simpatico, after all this time?’

“ ‘Peace Shigir.’ said Death raising a silent claw, ‘We are indeed simpatico. But I do not come wishing to see tricks today. Rather, I come baring a message.

“ ‘Why! This is most curious!’ said Shigir. And a curious thing it was indeed, for Death tended to bring but one message. The final message.

“Cautiously Shigir leaned forward, ‘Considering our deal, O Wondrous you! I wonder what a message it might be.’

“Shigir motioned Ohou to stay behind him at this point, fearing the worst. Our hero wondered if he would have to best Death in another way, this time, not for himself.

“But this story isn’t about that.

“Death raised their hand once more, seeing Shigir’s grip tighten ever so slightly on his crook. ‘You misunderstand olde friend.’ said Death with a voice like the wind over sandy dunes, ‘The message I bring isn’t my usual sort. I do this as a favor to your Mistress of Shadows, your Malachite Mother, that Eldritch Queen of Olde.’

“Our heroes stilled at Death words, and listened on.

“ ‘She wishes to speak to you both, but does not have the strength to reach you as she once had. Please, Lord Shigir, you must journey to the opening of the copper caverns. You must answer her call.’

“Ohou and Shigir shared a look, looked up into the ever smiling face of Death, and nodded.

“ ‘But of course! We will go.’ said our heroes.

“Death nodded and motioned his daughter the Vulpcròstag forward, ‘For quick flight and passage.’

“The half-breed duo nodded and bowed low. Once to the Vulpcròstag, twice to Death.

“ ‘Until next time olde friend.’ nodded Death.

“And our heroes hopped onto the Vulpcròstag’s back and the great daughter of Death tore through the fields and sky, leaving the sound of tolling bells in her wake.”

The gathered changelings shook their own bells and tambourines at this.

When the ringing stilled, the masked changeling continued, “Shigir and Ohou traveled far and wide on the Vulpcròstag’s back, and together they saw many a fantastical thing that not even Le Fay’s famed coach driver Balaga could take them to see. And Balaga was known to be able to go just about anywhere!

“Why! Imagine jumping through the very sky!” said the masked changeling lifting their make-shift crook skyward. The moon above them a now deeper red. “Finally they arrived before the yawning mouth of a cave. It was an olde place. And the air was still, and the night grew darker yet.

“Our heroes slid off of the Vulpcròstag’s back, bowed and thanked her deeply. Kissing her horns in thanks, while taking care not to strike them.

“When the Vulpcròstag left it was only Shigir, Ohou, the copper entrance, and the hanging sound of tolling bells that hung in the air.

“Our heroes gulped, hands held tight, and with a final squeeze, they let go of the other and stepped forward.

“Shigir was the first to speak, ‘Great Eldritch Queen! Deity and Maker! Malachite Mother, Lady Creator! Most honored Pale Lady! You have called us forth to the opening! We are here! We are listening!’

“Together, Shigir and Ohou bowed before the copper cavern. From inside they heard the tinkling of falling rain, and a soft rumble. As if within was a thunderstorm. Perhaps there was a thunderstorm that fateful night, that petered o’er the halls of our Eldritch Queen.

“From the darkness outstretched a clawed hand looking like a phoenix’s talon. 

“ ‘Little lambs!’ said the voice from within, ‘It has been many moons since I’ve spoken to anyone. Many moons since I’ve had the strength to call forth a Court summons. Many moons since anyone has sought for me.’

“The changelings bowed their heads lower.

“ ‘Lord Shigir, Lady Ohou. Will you listen to your Queen?’

“The changelings lifted their heads at this, ‘But of course!’ said Ohou.

“ ‘Speak on dear Creator!’ said Shigir.

“Wind exited from the copper cavern’s entrance like a sigh. It smelled of rain.

“ ‘I grow weary trapped in here. And yearn for my home of Olde. I was once party of many Courts of the likes you can not comprehend. Though, maybe one day. When I am freed. I’ll bring you and all in my Court to my home. Like many a times I have promised. I will show them the deeds I have done. My double exile over.’

“The Pale Lady sighed again, ’Until then my little lamb. I fear I’ll waste away with only the memories of parties and the promises of my children. I itch to dance, I ache for the balls of olde!’

“Another sigh brushed over the two changelings.

“ ‘Weep no longer O Maker! O Creator!’ said Shigir, getting off his bent knee. For Shigir was moved by the quiver of Our Creators voice. ‘It may still be a while until you are freed O Eldritch Queen, but that doesn’t mean _we_ can’t throw you a party.’

“ ‘What?’ said both our Creator and Ohou surprised.

“ ‘In fact! We _will_ throw you a party!’ continued Shigir hopping onto his trusty crook to balance on! With a wide sharp smile that flashed of starlight!”

The gathered changelings whooped and cheered at this, rattling and strumming their instruments. Some even did a quick little jig, and others embraced.

“ ‘A party so lively that it will brighten even your darkest of nights!’ ” cried the masked storyteller over the growing cheering of the crowd, the excitement growing like an incoming wave. “And that is exactly what was done!

“Shigir gathered as many half-breeds together, no matter their position in Le Fay’s Court, and brought them all under one night. When the moon was its largest, and oozed red like human blood.

“Shigir called up to the moon, for he knew the Pale Lady was listening from it,” the storyteller cupped a hand to the mouth of his mask and called up to the red moon as well, “ ‘Teach us your ways Morgana Le Fay! What were the customs of your Court? We will dance them to you and sing to you! So on this dark night you won’t feel alone! Teach us the Fay way!

“And the blood moon swelled, and the red oozed like a dripping pomegranate over and into the minds Her changeling children. This was how we learned what was to be done. We felt it in our bones and stones. Hear it in the golden cry of the twilight lark!”

The crowed cheered, a sea of changeling eyes starting to glow in the night.

“When we make the fried sweet buns, and crispy fried powdered sweets! When we dawn the masks and take to the fields!

“And it continues! _On_!” cried the masked changeling swinging the lantern on then of his make-shift crook to fling it into the pile of wood.

The wood pyre was as wide as a barn and taller than a juvenile tree.

And with the joining cheers of the other changelings, they too flung their lanterns and torches into the wood. And the pyre started to crackle and spark alive until it was a bonfire over ten feet high.

The masked changeling hopped onto his make-shift crook, fumbling slightly, and balanced himself on top of it. Striking the famous pose. Everyone cheered and roared and jumped. The bells jingled and tolled, half-breeds bounced and shifted between forms.

And with the conductive wave of the masked changeling, the drums struck loud in unison.

Once!

Twice!

Thrice!

And on the forth everyone started to sing and dance around the bonfire;

 *“ Make way! Make way!  
The Moon Doth Sway  
Orva la Fée we Troop  
A Trooping are We  
Leave Pie and Seed  
We Hope this Pleases You

Sing We Do!

The Moon is Red the Water is Dead  
This Dance we Gift to You  
You’ll Be Home Soon And Come June  
We’ll Come to Court to- Troop  
Troop Troop then we’ll be happy too  
All Thanks to You

Make way! Make way!  
The Moon Doth Sway  
Orva la Fée we Troop  
Dancing are We  
Sop Drink be Glee   
The Court will Be Ours Too

Sing to You! ”

More drinks were passed and the darkest night was filled with music and song. Food was passed, and even _more_ drinks. Some changelings scampered off to do other things in private. With so much stomping and dancing around the bonfire there was bound to be a mark like a ring around it impressed on the earth and grass. Though that was for the morning to find.

At some point everything started to blur between masks and colors and ribbons and bells and songs.

The lanky changeling dizzyingly stumbled near the cliff’s edge. He would have fallen over if he hadn’t found himself hooked by the end of a crook, and pulled away from the edge.

“ _Eeeeeyyllllaaaaaa_!Whoa there, easy!” said the changeling with a chortle patting the young changeling’s head in a paternal consoling gesture. 

“I almost! I mean-!” gasped the lanky one, catching his breath, now hugging the older changeling. The image of the black lake waters below still burning in his mind. Ears rumbling like thunder with his own heartbeat. “I have wings but-!”

“It’s alright, take it easy! We probably shouldn’t build a bonfire so close to a cliff’s edge next time.”

“Ye-yeah.” the lanky one gulped with a nervous laugh.

“Deep breaths. Count to five slowly.” suggested the older changeling, helping the younger one to sit on the grass.

The younger changeling nodded and did as such while the older one nodded and hummed patiently. While they waited the older half-breed spun their crook idly.

“Better?”

“Yea- yes. Yes actually.”

“Good!” laughed the changeling, “ _Good_! Glad to see you’re partying well, but don’t party too hard haha.” he added with a little shake of the young changeling’s shoulder. “A party shouldn’t end with a life if it can be helped.”

“Right haha, erm. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it!” bowed the changeling with a sing song voice.

The lanky changeling’s brows furrowed, at that. Something…sounded familiar, yet not exactly right. The young changeling lifted his mask to get a better look at the masked changeling. “Moït?” he asked, leaning forward.

Not that all the drinking and dancing helped. The young changeling squinted and swayed a little, almost seeing more than one changeling.

The masked changeling leaned forward on their crook to be at eye level with the young half-breed. “Oh you know who I am, little brother.” said the changeling with a laugh. They lifted their mask, but with the bonfire backlit behind the changeling, and the angle of the lifted mask, it was hard to make out the changeling’s face. No distinct features could be seen. Despite the clear glowing eyed wink they gave, and a flashed smile like starlight.

The changeling lowered the mask again and helped the young half-breed to his feet. “Come along now! The night’s not over yet!” they encouraged.

The young half-breed hiccuped and staggered a little. Wondering if maybe…no…maybe?

He slapped his cheeks to feel more awake and lowered his own mask once more. With that the young half-breed rushed back into the fevered partying crowd. Where the festivities blurred together like a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being more about the feel Shigir's influence gives to the changelings more so than about a story, and a view to what a half-breed holiday would be like.
> 
> Also it was a delight imagining up with all those songs haha, note to self: At some point I need to come back and actually record myself singing them, and leave a link here for it. 
> 
> * (Sung in the tune of Sumer Is A-Cumen In - “the Wicker Man” ‘73 version, as it is a little more foreboding than the original folk tune.)


End file.
